


Loosely Fitting

by SpeedingCheetah



Series: blnt fics ive wrote to rip my heart out subconsciously [6]
Category: better luck next time - Fandom, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aizawa gives Izuku a hug because it’s my favorite thing to write tbh, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Break, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Protective Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Spin-off fic, dadzawa is the best Aizawa troupe, read carefully, someone burn the Gekkeiju for me pls, triggers are in the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29944359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpeedingCheetah/pseuds/SpeedingCheetah
Summary: Some things were easier said than done, but Izuku hadn’t realized there were times when he truly could just take a break to gather his thoughts and let his tears spill without having to try and ignore the misery he was drowning in.Well, now he had.
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Monoma Neito is mentioned, Midoriya Izuku & Original Character(s) is mentioned
Series: blnt fics ive wrote to rip my heart out subconsciously [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2195742
Comments: 16
Kudos: 143
Collections: better luck next time and related works





	Loosely Fitting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nauticalwarrior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticalwarrior/gifts).
  * Inspired by [better luck next time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28394571) by [nauticalwarrior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticalwarrior/pseuds/nauticalwarrior). 



> Trigger Warning: _Mentions of Violence (Gore + Blood), Mentions of Self-Harm, Mentions of Self-Destruction, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Child Abuse / Neglect, Mentions of Nausea / Sickness.._ I believe that’s all; Read with caution.
> 
> — — —
> 
> @Calamity… it was supposed to be fluffier; But I guess I can't write hurt/comfort without making it _hurt._ Aizawa giving blnt-Izuku is the best source of serotonin at this point,,, so that’s nice.
> 
> Read carefully! (If you think I should add a trigger, let me know!)

For each thing he has done wrong Izuku beats himself up over it. He’ll ponder what he could have done to prevent it from ever happening, or if he could have done something to fix it as soon as it had happened.

He knew resting could only do so much for him; Which is why it was one of his first thoughts. One of his first _‘Go-To’s’,_ something that he abused because he knew it was his own ability, and therefore if he got sick from the over usage, it wouldn’t matter all that much. 

He’d have to fix himself and make sure no injuries were there, tend to the scrapes and bruises that would litter his skin and hope for the best. He’d have to rely on his own skills, and hope that nothing would go wrong and get him stuck in a bad position. 

As such, he also knew the chances of getting caught were high. 

Izuku was _well aware_ of that fact, and took it into precaution. The risk that followed up Ace’s arrest or identity reveal was enough for him to stay cautious and hide every small personal matter. He hid from his friends on the days where paranoia ate away at his bones, plagued him with a sickness that was only curable by hugs and small reassurances. 

And yet, when he was like that, he refused to go to anyone. It was the desperation that drove him to reach out and try and bury himself in the small efforts of comfort and relief that his companions had to offer him, the flood of emotions that would wrack through his body and make him sob out loud. 

When he was desperate enough, he’d go to Neito’s dorm room. He’d done it several times before, and each time his friend had allowed him in and comforted him. And for each time he arrived there and cried into the blonde’s shoulder, he’d been given the chance to say what was _truly wrong,_ but he never had the guts to.

Izuku lacked the ability to describe what was actually wrong, what was actually causing him to drown on his own thoughts and hope that maybe one day, just for once, his quirk wouldn’t activate and he’d be allowed to rest in a peaceful submission without anyone to interrupt. 

Without anyone to appear and tell him dinner was ready, or that he needed to go see Fury, or that he was needed by a teacher, or that his peers were wondering where he’d been and why he’d been spending so much time in his room lately. 

It was the little things that made him smile tearfully, swallow in sudden realization, and say he’d be down in a few minutes. He’d lie through his teeth and mask the unsettlement he felt on a daily basis, hoping it’d disappear long enough for him to get a few hours of sleep in on the rare occasion he didn’t sacrifice his rest in exchange for patrolling as Ace.

It wouldn’t matter, though. 

Izuku Midoriya was balancing too many things at once, and he was stuck in a tangled ball of lies, stuck and twisted up in so many layers of yarn there was no ‘survival’ in sight. He winged each mission, went in and would reset if something became severely out of place. 

The flashing lights would blind him, reds and blues that lit up dark alleyways or the late hours of the night. The authorities would tail him if he wasn’t oriented enough to get out of the area quick enough; Meaning he had to act fast or try and find a way to reset. 

It was always about him having to reset; Always about him needing a second or third chance to callen up the messy lines and edges that he’d made before on prior assignments given to him by the Gekkeiju. 

Then again, he knew that when tears fell from his eyes it was also his own fault for not being able to carry the burden long enough. When he’d be focusing on an assignment from math or Modern Literature, and his mind would drift back to the sad and hollow look on Mouse’s face, and he’d break right over his desk as tears would pool and slowly drip down from his face.

He could only hold so much before the feeling of uselessness and helplessness dragged him under, before what little stability and stature he had would crack apart like an old building after a violent hurricane that had assaulted abandoned cities on the coast of Japan. 

Mercy came in many forms, but Izuku wasn’t known to find any. He barely knew the sickly sweet feeling of someone holding him close after a meltdown, or like what happened at the Sports-Festival. That had been an accidental mishaps, a factor he hadn’t fully taken into consideration when Todoroki had appeared in the bathroom and tried to stop the blood from flowing. 

He had felt warmth and the slow drip of sweat on his nape, the way his vision had gone blurry and he’d tried to console his classmate as he held onto what little remaining time he had left before his quirk whisked him away to before such an event had happened. 

When Neito had been there, had died _with him._ That had brought Izuku to his knees, gasping for his breath _months_ after the death had even happened. 

Months after the act had even taken place.

He had been spooked by the sudden increase of nightmares that came to him as he slept, and had gotten used to waking up with a jolt and his heart beating so fast in his chest he thought he had just been killed for a second time, and had respawned like some character in a video game. 

And yet he started seeking such feelings. If they didn’t appear, it was confusing. If he slept for a solid seven or more hours, getting enough rest to feel somewhat refreshed, it made his head spin in sudden disbelief. He couldn’t do such a thing; And didn’t feel safe enough to talk to anyone about it. 

Who could he go to so he could confide and share the darkest things that piled up on his plate? 

There wasn’t anyone he could tell, not a single person who knew both sides of his story, both of his personas and why he had to do what he was involved with. There was no one who knew what he was doing, no one who understood he was trying to balance the stress of a civilian life with the clear torture of a vigilante under blackmail. 

Aizawa was the closest who knew anything; Who knew him as both sides of the coin. But his teacher had no idea as to how Izuku Midoriya and Ace were connected. His teacher had no clue at all; Which meant he couldn’t say _anything_ about the guilt that was in his head, the way it clung to his limbs and made everything feel heavy and unbearable.

It meant that Izuku couldn’t ask to talk to his mentor and explain how the other night he had mutilated his arms because the pain in Mouse’s gaze was too much for him to try and ignore, and he needed to find a way to ease the feeling of uselessness. 

It meant that Izuku couldn’t ask for a hug out of the blue, because he wasn’t a student who did that. He’d started to avoid physical contact, started to try and get out of as many situations where it required unnecessary touch with his peers; The excused building up in his head as soon as someone tried to reach out to him.

It meant he had to hold everything in, had to lie to everyone around him and just nod along and say it was the lack of sleep and excessive studying that had started to make him so skittish. He had to lie so he wouldn’t get his cover blown, had to lie and say that nothing was wrong so he didn’t get called out for the web of lies and tension he’d got stuck in.

Izuku had to keep himself under tight wraps, couldn’t let anyone know of the horrors he’d seen or experienced as a vigilante-

As a person working for the fucking _Gekkeiju._ He had to smile like normal, but had to push away the sickness that caused him to become nauseous at the thought of messing up; Had to ignore the feeling or suppress it long enough to make it through each school day.

It was unbearable in every way to exist.

So here he was; Staring at his math homework like he had been for the past seventeen minutes. He felt the tears from his eyes roll down his cheeks, dripping onto the paper that was on his desk; The parchment having already suffered greatly and absorbed most the fluids that spilled from his tear ducts. 

He knew the answers to the worksheet, understood them well enough to be able to solve and write each explanation; But his mind was occupied with grief and stress. It spun around in his gaze, and he couldn’t make any sense of the world around him.

Something about equations and formulas and squaring numbers that _wouldn’t_ help him in his current predicament. 

It was something he learned in middle school, something he made himself research and learn early because he had no one to hang out with during his time at Aldera. He had gone to the library and sat there at a table, alone, headphones in as he worked away from one of the public education-books that varied with mathematics. He spent most days after school there, in the local library working on scratch paper and waiting for his mother to text him to come home. 

And he’d done that for his entire middle school experience; He would try to avoid the lackeys and people who crushed him under their feet, ignore their taunting words and keep his head bowed and try to be as small as he could in comparison to his other peers. 

Izuku would try so hard to be _that one_ student, the student who did everything right the first time and didn’t speak up or say anything else. He didn’t ask for help, didn’t ask for extra guidance on his assignments. He wouldn’t ask for a few extra minutes on his notes, wouldn’t ask for the teacher to speak slower so he could understand better. 

No, he went with it even if it made him behind his classmates. It didn’t matter how much he struggled, because at the end of each class he’d get his stuff and continue to the next lesson in another room; Take his seat and hope nothing would go wrong in there, either.

Most days his hope for peaceful interactions went unheard, and he’d get caught in something that made him want to bite his tongue until it bled and all he could taste was the sharp copper from his own ichor. 

Most days, he ended up doing _just that._

And no one knew; Not even his own mother. Izuku lied to her, more times than he could count. He never said anything about Katsuki’s behavior during middle school, or the actual reasoning behind him not inviting any of his peers over. She didn’t need to know the truth, and now after so long, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t share such information with her even at the brink of his own death.

 _Death can’t kill me._ He thought, exhaling slowly and dripping his pencil onto the desk. His lamp was on, glowing dully from the corner of his workspace. It was a muted yellow, like the sandy color you could find at the beach. _Death can’t kill me, so it doesn’t matter anyways._

He raised his hands, placing them over his eyes. It was late at night, and he couldn’t have just gone to bed without having tried to do the homework he’d been putting off for two days now; But he hadn’t expected the sudden downfall of his mood and devotion today. 

The UA student hadn’t expected the decrease in energy, or the tears to come out from the shadows. Perhaps he should have, as it might’ve prepared him for the emotional rollercoaster he had been riding for the past three hours of his night when he should be _resting._

It was roughly only Two-AM, and he’d been contemplating his life choices since sometime around Midnight. He would have started on the math assignment earlier if he hadn’t been crying into his hand, but alas, he’d been crying and couldn’t have stopped the flow of self-destructive thoughts so easily. 

Certainly not to do _homework._

Izuku swallowed, wiping his eyes again. The homework was due tomorrow, and he was pretty sure there weren’t any extensions available. So, if he didn’t finish it by math class, he’d pretty much be turning in a paper with two of the twenty problems solved; With tear stains accommodating every other inch of the assignment.

A lovely addition to the reasons why his teachers had started to grow more concerned about him; And another _lovely_ thing that could and probably would be held against him if he kept slacking off due to his status as an undercover spy at the Gekkeiju. 

So what if he lost sleep? 

Izuku had to save Mouse. He had to save that little girl and save Avenging Angel, too. He needed to get them out of there, needed to force himself to obey and stay loyal to the organization so he could make it topple over in the future. That’s all he had to do- He just had to suffer a little while longer to make it all worth it in the end. 

The teenager inhaled again, dragging his hands down from his eyes and slowly over the rest of his face. _Fuck,_ he was so tired. 

He looked backwards, at his unused bed. It was made earlier this morning when he’d been running off of sudden motivation to have a ‘good day’ and to ‘just get the week over with’ so he could rest later. Well, _now_ he regretted making it seem so nice and welcoming. 

Deep down, Izuku knew that if he just told Ectoplasm that he had been running off of caffeine and not actually sleeping, that the hero would give him an extension and scold him lightly over not taking better care of himself. That the math teacher that taught the first-years of UA would look at him in slight concern, sigh and say he could skip the assignment and catch up later. 

He knew that if he just explained that something was bugging him and preventing him from sleeping, preventing him from getting any rest or finishing the work he’d normally be able to complete in under an hour, that his teachers would understand. His teachers would _try_ to understand, try to help. 

And yet, despite knowing this, there was the nagging fear of failure heavy in his head. If he couldn’t pull through with something as simple as math homework, of a concept he learned around a _year_ ago, then how could he ever muster up the strength to save Mouse?

Right, if he couldn’t play the civilian role; He’d get caught and wouldn’t be able to play the vigilante role, either. If that happened, he was thoroughly fucked and would be risking not only his own safety; But Mouse and Avenging Angel’s. 

_I can’t risk it._ Izuku thought, nearly bitterly. _I can’t risk anything._

Without a second thought, the teenager pushed his chair back and swallowed the saliva that had pooled in his mouth. He made a promise to Neito not to anything drastic, and to not do anything that would cause blood to spill- Even though the vigilante had already cut open his arms yesterday, before the promise was made, he wasn’t going to break it now solely to try and get rid of the fleeting feeling that breathed down his neck. 

Turning around, he shuffled towards his nightstand where an empty glass of water was. He knew it was empty, and had been drunk an hour or so ago, but Izuku needed something to occupy his mind with; And going to fill the cup up would be something to do ther than think about cutting his arms into flimsy blood-ridden sticks. 

So that’s what he did; Taking the glass and shuffling back to his desk where his phone was. Seeing the device right where he left it, the teenager slowly grasped it and stuffed it into his sweater’s pocket. 

His arms ached distantly, but he ignored it for the most part. He had tended to the cuts already, and they weren’t as painful as they had been when he woke up this morning, but wearing bandages would still draw attention in comparison to not wearing any at all. So, a compromise of wearing both bandages and a long sleeved shirt was made. 

It was better than having to constantly explain himself, or risk confiscation of any of the sharp objects he had in his dorm. That would be worse than the nightmares he got at night of ash and golden gazes. 

Far, far, _far_ worse. 

Walking to his door, Izuku swallowed the lump in his throat and exhaled. It was unlikely that anyone was up, and if anyone was up; It was also a low and nearly non existent chance of him running into that person. It would either be one of his sleepless classmates, or if all hell goes loose, Neito.

There had been a singular occasion the blonde had snuck inside; To which it was a miracle Izuku had been the one to spot him in the common room around Three-AM, a bag in hand that he found out to be full of snacks and other random sweets that had made the greenette feel all mushy. 

Neito had apparently gone on a snack-run, and decided to drop by in the dead of night to share with _him._ It was a gesture that had been highly appreciated by the shorter teenager; And he still had a large amount of the snacks remaining, so that was a benefit, too.

Izuku opened his door, slipping out quietly with the glass in hand. It was dark in the hallway, but that was to be expected. It was night time, and no one was up late during the school week normally. Besides him, of course; As he’d sneak out and hide away from his peers to take on the role of Ace and do each job the Gekkeiju assigned him so he wouldn’t risk Mouse’s arm. 

The threat that laid over her head wasn’t just hurting him and making him try to bear the weight of sanity and following orders; It also put direct risk on the little girl who placed all her trust into Ace. 

Into _Izuku Midoriya._

He shoved the thoughts away, stepping out into the dark corridor and shutting his door. From the outside, you could barely see the faint glow of his lamp; And he knew that if anyone truly was up and looking for him, they’d be a be to find him in the kitchen with ice-water and his eyes glued onto his phone screen as he tried to find something to keep him occupied.

Apparently math didn’t seem to work anymore, and trying to complete assignments while under the stress of his job as Ace and the lack of his presence in the illegal world, _wasn’t_ doing him any favors. 

He felt his room’s key in his sweater, and momentarily pondered if he should lock the door, but the feeling of being too tired prevented him from moving his arms to take the key and turn the lock. So he waited for a few minutes, back against his bedroom door and mind fuzzy with exhaustion. 

Then, he dragged himself down the hall quietly; Reaching the stairs and pausing. _It is dark._ His mind rendered, as if he hadn’t realized such information earlier. Perhaps he hadn’t, and this was just him finally catching up with his surroundings after so many nights of little to no sleep.

Exhaling to himself, he silently walked down the stairs and made his legs walk further in the lobby, squinting in the blackness that enveloped him. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t the same welcoming tug that reminded him of his quirk’s activation process.

The exhaustion that plagued him made his head dizzy, and he ended up smiling to himself as death slowly took his hand and led him through the in-between limbo of life and death, the euphoric feeling inching up his body and throughout his nerves each time. Each time it forced it was up his throat, bubbling like a water fountain or a freshly drawn bath. 

Walking towards where he knew the kitchen would be, he slid across the floor tiredly and squinted at the area around him, reaching one hand out and running it along the wall. 

Finding the familiar texture and cold surface of the fridge, he smoothed his fingers over where he was sure the water dispenser would be. When he found it, he adjusted the glass in his other hand and pressed it to the button; The white glow from the light blooming like a rose in time-lapse. He stared as the cup filled up, shifting his weight onto his other foot in an effect to drive off the tension in his body.

There wasn’t anything to rely on for him to try and use as a coping mechanism besides excessive patrolling, or the tug of his quirk and mindless destruction he brought upon himself. 

Cutting his arms was good enough. 

Bleeding out in a bathtub was good enough. 

Once the water was filled up enough, he retracted his hand and the filter turned back off; The fridge’s light stayed on for a few more seconds before shutting down. He stared at it, where the glow had been and then slowly processed that it disappeared.

Izuku didn’t know what he was doing, he realized after a few moments. Getting water hadn’t done a thing for him besides bring him out of his dorm room in the middle of the night, and make him fumble around in darkness while admiring a tiny white light from the fucking _fridge._

The adventures of insomnia and stress combined, he supposed. 

For a few minutes, he just stood there, contemplating if it was even worth trying to head back up to his dorm to do anything at all. If he were to go back up the stairs, it’s as likely that he would cry once he got back to his room, seeing as homework wouldn’t help him calm down and his mind was already scattered, so perhaps it’d be easier to just stay in the kitchen until someone got up for the school day..

The teenager swallowed his saliva, staring into his cup. He forgot to get ice, and such a small detail made him feel like a train wreck. It was _ice,_ how could he forget something so damn simple?

It was too late to get anymore, with the water filled too far in the cup and his heart weighing heavily in his chest like he just pursued the most ignorant crime of all crimes; Completed a novel and forgot the whole plot within the next five minutes of him sitting with the book in hand.

So, without even trying to fight the thoughts that filled his head, he turned around and slowly slid to the floor; Letting his back press up against the fridge. He shakily set the cup of water down besides him, adjusting his position and pulling his legs to his chest. 

The pounding in his head was enough to make him want to hide under layers of blankets, but all he did was let his head fall onto his knees and suck in an inaudible breath; Feeling his chest heave in silence. It would be easier to cry in secluded areas, or if he really needed to sob he could wander back to his room and bury his head into a pillow; But as of now he felt too tired to do so.

It’d take him awhile before the sudden fatigue that washed over him would leave; And by that time he’d be too tired and unmotivated to do anything. He always ended up suffering in that sense, unable to do anything else because of something that made him want to cry for days on end.

The water he had put into the glass cup was besides him, and he felt his phone in his pocket, but nothing really mattered besides the fact he had math homework that's due tomorrow, and he had to meet with the Gekkeiju on Saturday to update his previous missions and check on Mouse.

And that was only if he was _allowed_ to see the girl. 

It wasn’t fair, not at all. It wouldn’t matter what he did in the end because something would come and ruin his chances. Izuku didn’t have enough strength to carry the weight of his promises, but he knew couldn’t just _backtrack,_ he couldn’t take his word back now.

He screwed his eyes shut as the familiar wetness returned. He hoped that the feeling of nausea would go away and let him rest for a few minutes before coming back to taunt him with cruelty and deception, but he knew it was unlikely. He promised to stay alive and go back to meet with Mouse; Promised to bring her a water bottle like she wanted. _Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. **Liar.**_

What good was he if he couldn’t even keep a promise?

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a voice only a few seconds later; The timbre gruff and yet oddly soft. “That doesn’t change your worth.” 

“Ah-h,” Izuku snapped his head up, tears in the corners of his eyes again and his breathing going shallow and unnervingly quiet for a kid on the verge of screaming because _everything just kept going wrong._ “Aizawa-Sensei, I-I’m sorry for being s-so loud-”

 _I disrupted him. Oh fuck I was too loud-_ The kid’s mind was panicked again, switching from self-pity and frustration due to his situation, and then back to skittish worry. 

“You aren’t loud, Midoriya.” Aizawa cut him off, but his voice wasn’t bitter or angry. From the blurry darkness, the greenette could tell that his teacher’s eyes were tired, as well as his tone, but he was _concerned._ He was concerned about him, concerned about why he was in the kitchens on the verge of having a meltdown in the dead of night. 

“S-Sorry,” The student choked out, again.

“I was already up,” His teacher said, after a few minutes. His tone became more deliberate, and distantly Izuku wondered if he was trying to figure out if Izuku had been searching for something to harm himself with. If he was in his mentor’s position, he’d probably think the same thing. “I came out here to get something to eat as I graded papers, as I thought whoever was in the kitchen had already left again.”

He heard a slight rustle, and then heard someone sit down right next to him; A little off to the side so he still had space and _wouldn’t feel trapped._ “It happens more often than you’d think, actually.”

“Oh-h..” The teenager swallowed thickly, digging his nails into the fabric of his pants. A while ago, he would have liked to think he wanted company; But perhaps the ‘company’ he had wanted would have been like.. Shinso or Neito. “I-.. I know I should be asleep-p.. And I’m sorry- I shouldn’t be h-here so late.”

“Don’t apologize Midoriya, it happens to everyone eventually.” His teacher said, shrugging lightly at him. Or, it seemed like the adult had shrugged; In the dark Izuku couldn’t really tell. 

He swallowed again, hands twisting in the fabric of his pants. It wasn’t bad trying to explain things, but perhaps that was because it was allowing him to stall the tears that were about to pour down his cheeks like a waterfall. “Mm.. Y-Yeah, I guess so.”

“Is something keeping you from sleeping?” Aizawa asked, calmly and without any malice or direct curiosity. He sounded carefully blank, like a person willing to let others confide in him. “Sorry for overhearing your anxious muttering, but is the promise you made too great to keep?”

“Oh- Uh, no, it’s just.. Stressful.” He stuttered, trying to find an excuse that might be somewhat convincing in comparison to the other people who dared to lie to Aizawa’s face directly. “I’m just nervous, o-or something.”

_Or something._

There was a momentary pause, where all Izuku heard was his quiet and strained breathing, and the replaced and calm breaths of his teacher. Subconsciously, he tried to match his rhythm to the adult besides him, sitting on the kitchen floor with _him._ “May I ask what might be making you nervous?” 

_I’m scared._ His mind speculated, humming the words in the teeanger’s ears. He couldn’t just say that, though. He had no excuse as to why he was so spooked; also it’d only do more harm than good. 

“I genuinely don’t know-.. Something just-t.. Set it off, today, I mean. I woke up f-fine; Felt _fine,_ but now I’m here and-..” Izuku winced, knowing his words were not the most blunt, but also knowing full heartedly that they could be taken as him hiding something. And although he was, he didn’t mean it negatively. “And-d something upset me and I can’t figure out _what._ ”

It was silent for a little again.

“Ah-h, sorry!” At the lack of reply, the teenager wished he could curl in on himself more and hide his face in the darkness more than it already was. “That’s probably.. Very stupid and-d bothersome, huh? I know it’s s-silly, but-..” 

“It’s not, Midoriya.” The adult disagreed, tone struggling to hide the flatness. The younger person hoped it wasn’t wading off disappointment at his horrible and negative mindset- Izuku wasn’t sure what he’d do if Aizawa said or implied he was disappointed in _him._ “Your emotions are still valid, no matter the reason behind them.”

 _Oh._ A tiny bit of warmth blossomed in the teenager’s chest, like sunlight hitting a person’s skin during a cold day in the winter. It brought a bit of a smile to Izuku’s face, and he felt a bit of happiness wash over him. 

He wasn’t disappointed.

Alas, he was having trouble with explaining his emotions. It didn’t matter what he did, or if the world ended as he took a bath in the middle of a nice and pleasant afternoon. He’d still feel broken and useless, utterly helpless to try and save two people who didn’t deserve to be butchered and abused at the hands of the Gekkeiju. “I-I’m just.. Stuck.” 

“That is a common feeling, from what I know.” The man besides him said, albeit softly.

“Y-Yeah.. Many people have it _so much_ w-worse,” An image of Mouse flashed through his head, ash and char coating her cheeks and skin. It painted her in greys and dying embers, glowing reds that faded into blacks and deep colors of the night sky during a dry-heaving storm. “A-And here I am..”

“That’s not what I meant,” Aizawa replied, a few seconds later. His voice was soothing yet firm, almost like a gentle squeeze on his shoulder; But no physical contact was made. It didn’t actually exist as of then. “You don’t have the proper standpoint to compare your emotions to anyone else's' experiences, as yours are completely different from theirs.”

The words made Izuku’s throat tighten, and he forced himself to nod in agreement; But not believing a word his teacher said. There wasn’t a person he could fully confide in, no matter what he did. He didn’t have someone like that, because he still had to lie in order to get the outcome he wanted- The outcome that was needed in the possible futures he was in. 

His mentor checked, “Is something confusing you in any of your classes?” 

Izuku tried to think back to the day’s classes, the activities he did and whatever else he was assigned in large workloads. He’d done everything the same; Studied, smiled, bumped into Neito at lunch and ate the majority of his meal, even drinking two bottles of water without much of a fuss. 

His mind didn’t trick him into thinking that the liquid had been blood, so that was also a good sign. There hadn’t been any disruptions that made him feel sick or distressed until after he got to his room; Once he was alone. 

_Alone with my thoughts._ He decided, finally. His mind spun around at the contemplation, but Izuku knew it was true. He knew it wasn’t a messed up lie. _That’s what must have made me break down, that’s all. Just my thoughts. Just the burden of it all. Nothing else._

So he shook his head, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Alright, go from there.” Aizawa said, sounding as if he actually wanted to help. _He does,_ The teenager forced his mind to agree, forced himself to believe that his teacher actually cared. “When you visited your mother last weekend, did something happen then that stressed you out? Perhaps a mild inconvenience?”

Yes. _A thousand times yes._ The Gekkeiju had hurt him in more ways than one, mentally and physically and in so many other ways it’d make him sick if he thought about it for too long. 

“I was..” He struggled to find the words, before shaking his head. Thoughts and strategies filled his head, text messages that went unanswered from Neito lighting up on his phone screen from when he’d cried over the mathematics homework. “I think it’s just a.. Bad-d day. Couldn’t get my mind to stop racing, so I couldn’t get my work done and it’s due _t-tomorrow,_ which is just.. Stressful.”

The majority of that worksheet was t even started- It just was cried upon with only two problems solved and checked over. How nice, really.

Again, in the darkness, Izuku could feel the pause appear in the air; Imagine the downward furrow of his teacher’s eyebrows and the slight frown that would appear at such a response. But then, not a moment later, he heard a genuine question without any dryness, “Was it the most recent assignment from math?”

 _It’s always something._ He decided internally, but pushed the thought away. Now wasn’t the best of times to bash his existence, or anyone else’s. It was his own fault for getting tangled up in strings of lies. “Ah.. Yeah.”

“Figured as much. Most of the other students haven’t turned it in or finished, either. Ectoplasm was talking about it in the teacher’s lounge.” He continued, most likely shooting a side glance at the greenette who had frozen. It was as if he had known beforehand; And had chosen not to say anything.

 _Is that bad?_ He wondered.

“ _Oh._ ” Izuku squeaked, blinking. Confusion filled his body, but it quickly was drowned out with what he deemed to be naive hope for realization and a break. _Did that mean it wasn’t a big deal? Did that mean it didn’t matter? Do I get off the hook for it?_

“If you aren’t able to finish something because of your mental health, it’s not your fault. At UA, you should have the ability to say if it’s too much or not. That’s what we hope for each of our students,” His teacher paused, slowly talking. “You know this, right?”

“Uhm, yeah..” The sixteen year old mumbled, voice quiet in comparison to the muffled humming of the fridge, fans blowing cold air on the inside to keep the food good and available to eat. “I just.. Didn’t acknowledge it-t.”

“That’s okay.” Aizawa said after a little bit, quietly. It didn’t sound as gruff as it normally did, which made Izuku blink in slight comfort. “It takes time. Things like that always take time; It’s stressful to switch mindsets soon after events that might cause a person to normally think differently.”

“That.. Makes sense.” He said after a few moments. 

Images of Mouse crying popped into the younger’s head, and although he tried to push them away, the pain crippled him from actively being able to ignore the sparks of pain and self-hate that broke through his shell and pierced his eyes for what felt like the millionth time that night. Mouse was suffering, and here he was, on the border of crying in the kitchen on a school night because he couldn’t buck up.

Then again, he cried a lot at night, so maybe he was just exaggerating to make himself feel better.

His teacher listened for anything that he might want to add, but hearing nothing else from the troubled teenager, he exhaled airily and nodded in the darkness that enclosed the room. “I hope it does, Midoriya. It’s important to understand.”

Perhaps it was, for the mass majority of people. For the mass population who would fall victim to death and hate crimes and self-harm solely because they’d feel pressured to meet society’s expectations; But Izuku wasn’t as lucky to be given such mercies, especially not freely. He had to fight for those choices if he wanted such treatment. “Mm..”

They sat in silence for a little while, before Aizawa spoke up again. “Are you feeling better?”

 _Am I?_ He wondered, vaguely to himself. He wanted to say that he was still tired, still and secrets he wished he could share and release from the depths of his horrid and wretched mind, but he couldn’t voice such things out loud. He wouldn’t be able to share the things that truly kept him up at night, because he had no one else to share such a horrifying burden with.

There wasn’t anyone else for him to turn to, and as such it wasn’t worth the time to try and figure out a way to share. Who would even bother with listening, let alone trying to understand why he was the way he was, and he was still letting himself drown on the pain that came with his situation. 

Swallowing down the cold and harsh reality of his situation, in hopes of ignoring the burning pain in his chest and desire to get a breath of fresh air without feeling restricted, he mumbled an agreement. “I think so.”

His teacher believed him, albeit hesitantly. “I’m glad, then.” 

Izuku understood why, knew why the doubt and spacious denial still remained present in his mentor’s tone and words; Why he didn’t immediately brush the vigilante’s case aside because of something or another. _He actually cares,_ Izuku reminded himself. _He actually cares about me, that’s why._

It wasn’t some cruel prank, or a tedious inside-joke that had been going on for months without any sign of stopping. No, the concern was real and very sincere; And it meant the world to the greenette.

Few people reached that mark, few actually conveyed what they spoke of.

So it meant _a lot,_ it meant much more than meets the eye.

“Aizawa-Sensei..?” He whispered out loud, feeling the sudden urge to speak up and ask for what he rarely could consider to request from even the people who were closest to him. He struggled to ask for things when he needed it the most, to which it was nearly the exact opposite as Ace. 

Ace could ask for things, and somehow get away with them. He could be under a quirk effect, and ask for a hug or some form of comfort- A form of validation so he didn’t feel like a useless person for playing the role of a _villain._

All _Izuku_ could do was cry over burning his and Neito’s chicken nuggets at Four-AM on a Wednesday. 

The pro-hero answered a few seconds later, “Yes?”

“Can I..” He pushed down the fears that bubbled up in his throat, a reluctance that formed out of nowhere. The fear and anxiety of rejection, of denial and failure to understand as to _why_ he wouldn’t be able to have what he wanted. “Can I hug you?”

_If you let Ace hug you, will you let me?_

“Sure, Midoriya.” Aizawa said, blinking slowly from his position a little ways off from his student. Izuku fidgeted lightly at the response, eyes glowing with a form of relief that the hero couldn’t see; But _feel._ He could feel the relief, and knew well enough that if his student was asking for any form of physical contact, he wouldn’t ever choose to deny such a thing. “Of course you can.”

Izuku shuffled over hesitantly, leaning over just enough to find his hands brushing his teacher’s sleeve. As soon as he felt the presence of his mentor really there, he inched closer and let himself fall into a half embrace. 

The black-haired male didn’t mention the way tension seeped out of his bones, or the way that the teenager was shaking from being cold or various other things. Instead, like any good teacher would do if they had an ounce of care and affection for any of their students, he slowly wrapped one arm around the teeanger’s shoulders.

The teenager clung to his side, as if the world would fall away if he were to let go. It was a desperate type of grasp, where he wasn’t going to let go because the idea of losing what comfort he was given was too much. As if the hug that he had asked for was the only thing keeping him alive, keeping him tethered to reality and unable to ever fully leave. 

Maybe that was a good thing.

Izuku fit loosely there, half-pressed against his side in moderate demand. It was a simple question that had hundreds of meanings, most of which resolved around the fact that the kid was deep in a hole of self-doubt and clear distrust. Aizawa knew this; And he sure as fuck wouldn’t brush it asides.

Just because it wasn’t constricting him didn’t mean it wasn’t fitting.

It was just loose.

**Author's Note:**

> Well,,, I said I’d write another one, didn’t I? Roughly 7k words of my shitty writing; Let’s go- _yeet_


End file.
